Venus spoke to me
As the moon slipped between the clouds,
I wondered at the chalky glow of radiance.
As my eyes became wearisome, I saw dark figures
And the stars acknowledged me in calling light.
Then upon me came a vision of eternal beauty,
And words of a love virus that spins hearts:
Women are the water that flow through the hands of love,
And men the desperate salmon fighting times tide.
Would these two meet in clashing rocks and windy shores?
As one knows the other and calls he or she closely.
The slippery days of heartache will shake the mind,
And loves illusion lost in starry nights denies itself.
Would you drop your anchor in shifting sands?
Then be sure footed when you show your heart,
And show it as you might sing in joyful praise,
Or dance with beauty of movement.
And if you should find that special dream of love
Then hold it dear as if it was your last embrace.
We are frozen peaches
in need of warm mouths to kiss.
To hold a smooth satin body
and shed our elephant skins.
Look at the North Sea!
It reminds me of you-
cold and dirty. It leaves like you left me,
a Nordic ferry heading for the fjords.
We claim that there isn't enough time
even though there is so much of it,
scratching at our backs,
slipping like continents into our graves.
One day parallel lines will meet.
Street parties of passion will erupt.
Iron curtains will fall as
we kiss for the last time.
That night I thought I could slip away like Elvis,
but our hands touched, elements finding their rightful place.
The universe settled, dovetailed in, the last piece of a jigsaw contented.
The months and years split open that Sunday morning
as the Sun collapsed in on itself. The Moon was cut adrift and the stars were
screaming diamonds. The Thames froze again.
A million ice cubes fell, porcupine kisses on our backs put into cold storage.
We talked around it like two fish denying the existence of water,
insisting that the Woolly Mammoth would survive the Ice Age.
A butterfly left its pupae; the planet was slipping from its axis.
Stardust turned to rust as blood vessels whispered the heart is dead.
The compass points had changed, our hands slipped and touched again.
Three Fruits of Love
There is too much love in a tomato.
It promises so much,
But it cuts too easily,
Revealing it's ripeness.
Naked in my hand
I squeeze the blood and pips.
It purees like a melting heart.
An orange is strong.
It will put up a fight
And leave you with sore thumbs.
It will surprise you with its sweetness,
Or make you wince with its acid wit.
The scent will stay with you
Tingling on your fingers
Lingering like a lover's kiss.
I have never been tempted:
That shiny coat deceives,
Like a brief love affair.
The mystery is in the core
Which frustrates us all
Between finger and thumb.